Experiment
by SmileyBlueEyes48
Summary: An idea has worked its way into my strange little brain.
1. Default Chapter

I'm taking my author's liberty to add a new character. I've always thought that there needs to be more info on Eames and a closer friend for Goren. Lately, a person has entered my head who supplies both. Let me know if you like her or not. If so, she'll become a feature in my work. If not, this will be a one-time thing. Let me know. As the artist, I bend to the winds of my public. :)

p.s. I don't own anything but the idea.

Mercy Phelps waited for Deakins one dreary, early-November morning. Carver was on vacation and she was pulled out of the substitute hat. Nervousness was not exactly a word in her vocabulary, but she had to admit to being impressed by Major Case.

Without warning, a shrill voice pierced the air and rang through her head. "Damn it, I reminded you three times Tuesday and a dozen times yesterday. What's it going to take?"

Mercy knew that voice. Grinning broadly she set down her briefcase and followed the sound. "I'd recognize that squawk anywhere," she said to the smaller woman before her. She spun around like a top and her tawny eyes lit up. "It's been too long, Miss Eames," she added.

"Mercy?" Her tone was surprised and ecstatic. "How've you been?"

Mercy held out her hand to shake but was staggered to receive a warm hug instead. "Well, I can't complain," she said, awkwardly patting her friend's back. "Who's that you were yelling at?"

Eames pulled back sighed. "Goren forgot to fill out his report." She surveyed the familiar figure before her.

Mercy was tall and curvy with large, friendly light-blue eyes and curly chestnut hair tied up in a bulky round bun. She was younger than Eames, but life had been harder on her. Silver streaked the gold atop her head and tear trails mingled with laugh lines on either side of her Cupid's bow mouth.

Her eyes became perfect circles as she searched the room. "Oh yeah? You know I need to meet this guy; you two are responsible for ninety percent of my victories." She looked for the man she pictured the one and only Goren to be: a mousy little man with thick glasses who didn't see much of the sun. Probably came to work in his pajamas.

"Sure we are," said Eames, not underestimating the talented woman before her. "And this is him right here."

Mercy turned in the direction Eames indicated, but the only person standing there was a long, lean gentleman watching their conversation attentively. He smiled politely and held out a great hand, which she accepted while giving him the once-over.

"I'm glad to finally meet you," she said. "The last time I saw Alex, you were all she talked about."

Mercy didn't have to turn around. She _felt_ the laser beams on the back of her head. "Really?" asked Goren, sounding mildly surprised. Mercy only grinned mischievously.

"Ah, there you are," said Deakins, spying Mercy. "Sorry I'm late. We can start now. And you two," he added, motioning Goren and Eames. "I've got something for you."

In his office, the captain took a seat while Goren remained standing so Mercy and Eames could take the chairs. Unable to decide whether this courteous behavior was thoughtful or sexist, Mercy sat cautiously while Eames plopped right down.

"I'll start with you guys," Deakins began. "This is important."

Mercy's attention wandered as her eyes roamed over the plaques and awards hanging on the walls, the vast majority of which were engraved with the names _Robert Goren_ and _Alexandra Eames_. It was clear they were the best detectives in the Plaza.

When she came to this conclusion, she caught her breath. The Major Case Squad at Once Police Plaza was the best squad in New York City. Goren and Eames were the best of Major Case, thus the best in New York.

New York had the highest crime rate of any city in America. America had the worst crime rate of any country in the world. Do the math.

Mercy was overwhelmed by a sudden, deep sense of intimidation after discovering she was looking at the two greatest detectives in the Solar System. Her jaw went slightly slack as she glanced at her old friend. Alex "The Flash" Eames. Greatest mind in the known universe. What an idea.

And this Goren guy. Fascinating man. Probably because she'd pictured someone small and unattractive. But he was very sexy in a way she couldn't quiet put her finger on.

Once her eyes rested on him it was hard to look away. He fidgeted, cocked his head, stuck his hands into his pockets then remembered his mother told him never to do that, and tensed his neck between broad shoulders like a turtle retreating into the shell of thought, just to name a few.

He caught her staring and she grinned apologetically, putting her eyes next to him to read yet another plaque just over his elbow. "World's Greatest Dad." What was that about? Then she remembered she was in Jim Deakins's office.

"Miss Phelps?" asked Deakins. Mercy jumped and put her hand to her chest.

"No, no, no. Miss Phelps is my mother. Call me Mercy, if you please." She sent a look around the room, eyes lingering specifically on Eames. "All of you."

Deakins smiled warmly and leaned back in his chair, folding his hands over his head. "Will do, Mercy. Now, the reason I had you come in here with these two is to give you warning." His eyes flickered playfully in the detectives' directions. "They can be a handful sometimes."

Goren snorted as Mercy and Eames traded glances. "Yeah, about that..." began the attorney, trailing off. "I myself have a tendency of... Well, I can sometimes..."

"She's an artist," said Eames bluntly.

The men simultaneously made long "Oh"s of understanding. Mercy pretended to be affronted.

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean, Flash?"

Eames's eyes narrowed dangerously. "I was just teasing, Ice Queen."

Mercy cocked an eyebrow. "Sure you were."

"Flash?" said Goren with the beginning of a grin on one side of his mouth. Deakins also looked amused.

"Sure," began Mercy, eyes twinkling. "We were polar opposites in college, but still got along. I was the serious one who went off to law school; she was the wild thing in the Academy. I can't tell you how many Saturday nights I spent in the dorm, alone and sober."

Deakins heard a thump under his desk and suppressed a chuckle when Mercy mumbled "Ow." She shifted her ankle out of the reach of any further bodily attacks.

"Don't get me started," said Eames, fighting a smirk. "You may not have brought in the boys very often, but when you did I could count on missing a night of sleep."

Mercy batted mile-long eyelashes, angelically. "Now, now. I'm every bit as naïve as the day I was born."

Eames sent her a look. "Sure, with the number 665 burned into your forehead."

The younger woman laughed heartily and held up her hands. "Truce, Alex."

"For now."

Mercy beamed and repositioned herself more comfortably. "Well, those days are over anyway. Long gone."

"Tell me about it." The two lovely women rested their weary eyes on each other, reminiscing.

Mercy shook herself out first and locked her attention on Deakins. "I'm sorry, was there something else you wanted to tell me?"

He drew a breath, then paused. Actually, he'd wanted to alert her to the dangers, tell her to watch herself, offer some protection, to let her know some of the detectives were almost as dangerous as some of the criminals, but none of that seemed necessary now that he'd met her. "No," he said honestly. "I believe we've covered all of it in some form or another."

She smiled again (boy, she smiled a lot) and checked her watch. "I've got an appointment in a few minutes I need to get to anyway. I should be back in about an hour, but you know how people are." She got to her feet and lifted her briefcase. Eames got up as well, and Deakins stood just for the sake of not looking rude.

"Would you like to have lunch tomorrow?" Mercy asked Eames with a familiar tone. "We haven't seen each other in three years. There's a lot to catch up on."

"Absolutely. How about a happy hour at McKinney's?" Eames was only half-joking but Mercy puckered her forehead.

"Honestly, have you forgotten I don't drink?" She grinned to lighten the suddenly heavier atmosphere. People in New York refused to drink for one reason: alcoholism in their past, whether a parent's or their own. "Call me when you get the chance and we'll work it out." She held out a card with her cell phone number and headed for the door.

Goren pushed it open for her, and again she found herself not sure how to react. She looked directly into his eyes, trying to find the motive, and sent him a dazzling smile. "It was nice to finally meet you, Detective Goren."

"You too, Miss--" He caught himself at her raised eyebrow. "Mercy."

Her smile broadened and Eames walked her to the elevator. Deakins and Goren exchanged looks.

"This should be fun," said Deakins, turning to a stack of papers on the corner of his desk.

Goren didn't know what he thought it would be yet.

Alex and Mercy met at a comfortable little restaurant and chose a table in the corner where they could gab and giggle without bothering anyone.

"What's this I hear about you having a baby?" asked the prosecutor, tucking her napkin the way she was taught in Georgia.

Alex nodded and left her napkin folded on the table. "My sister's and brother-in-law's. I was surrogating."

Mercy's brows shot up. "That was nice of you."

"Tell me about it."

"Last I heard, you didn't even like kids."

"Last I heard, you were supposed to have adopted three girls from China by now."

"Two Chinese girls," corrected Mercy. "And a Russian boy." She twirled her spaghetti on her fork. "Things don't always work out as planned."

Alex hesitated. "Tim?"

Mercy winced. "Let's not go there today. Happy thoughts, Alex, happy thoughts."

"All right. I heard you settled today; congratulations."

"Thank you. It wasn't difficult. Do you know detectives Green and Fontana?"

Alex paused. "Sounds familiar. Is Green an insanely hot black man?"

Mercy nodded. "That's the one. They found themselves a case that wasn't to the liking of Jack McCoy. He handed it to me."

"Sounds like he thought he'd lose."

Mercy gestured nonchalantly. "I don't mean to put the guy down, but he does that a lot. I've never met a guy with such a fragile ego."

"I don't know about that," said Alex with a grin. "You have met Bobby. The Man with the Glass Head."

Mercy frowned, thinking. "Bobby? Who's Bobby?"

Alex remembered her friend had only heard Robert. "That's what we call Goren when he's in trouble."

"Detective Goren's first name is Bobby?" She smiled, tickled. "That's adorable."

Alex nodded. "Yeah, he's a doll."

"He seems very..." Mercy paused, searching for the words.

Alex had plenty of suggestions. "Smart? Weird? Screwy? Unorthodox?"

Mercy smirked. "Hot."

Alex's water almost came out her nose. "Jesus, what is this? The year of the detective?"

"This is happening a lot?" Mercy found herself mysteriously amused by the image of this little pit-bull pouting in the corner as lawyers, cops, and—inevitably—perpetrators hit on her partner. It was surprising she hadn't made a move yet. Maybe this wasn't the same Flash she remembered.

"Yes," Alex sighed. "Do you have any idea what a pain in the ass it is to deal with horny little villainesses rubbing all over your partner while you're trying to get them to tell you where they've hidden a body?"

Mercy sent her a look. "I can guess. But I don't think that's it."

Sparks shot out of the detective's eyes but Mercy just grinned. She was immune to the Eyebrow of Death. It only worked on men. "What are you suggesting?"

Mercy didn't pussy-foot. She'd learned to stop that a long time ago. "Only that maybe you'd like a little of the attention he's awarding the scum of the universe for yourself. It's perfectly acceptable. A guy like Detective Goren probably flirts with every feminine creature on two legs, so why not you?"

Alex pondered a moment. "Yeah. What's wrong with me?" She lowered her eyes, voicing a thought she'd had for years.

Mercy shook her head. "Absolutely nothing. That's probably why he's trying so hard to keep your relationship plutonic. You work together perfectly. You're probably the only partner he's had who's ever been able to come close to understanding him. Why risk ruining it?"

Alex looked up at her. "You make it sound like all I think about is jumping him."

"If it's not, you aren't the Flash I remember."

She shook her head. "Goren's not my type, you know that. It's just nice to have a little acknowledgement every now and then."

"I know what you mean." She fingered the chain of her necklace. Alex caught a glimpse of the beautiful silver Star of David dangling between her large breasts, modestly disguised by a suit designed to make her look less top-heavy. Her mind began to wander...

"You should bring him the next time we have lunch," said Mercy, snapping her friend back to Earth. "That is, if he'd like to come. I think he's interesting." She paused. "I'm not exactly sure whether I like him or not yet, though."

Alex nodded. "I can understand that. The chair and the door?"

"Yes, that, and something else." She considered. "But go ahead and give me the explanation you sound like you've got."

"Let me put it this way," began Alex after a strange expression Mercy read as confusion, "You've heard of reverse racism?" Mercy nodded. "This is a kind of reverse sexism. He's very kind to women because of how hard we've worked and how much he thinks he owes us. His mother tried very hard to raise him on her own although she was—incapacitated." Alex sent her friend a look that clearly read _I shouldn't have said that, so if you tell Goren I did, I'll hurt you very badly_. Mercy gestured in understanding. "Take it for what it is. A good thing."

Mercy comprehended the idea with a welcoming mind and changed the subject. Alex had grown quiet. "How are your folks?"

"Very well, thank you." Alex wasn't sure what to say next. She swallowed and edged onto the limb. "Yours?"

"I lost Momma to her sickness last year and Daddy followed suit within the fortnight." She shook her head solemnly, pure Southern Belle. "Although the doctor's ability to cure this cancer was limited when I was a child, she survived until finally she simply decided to quit trying. It was when she received word I'd officially converted." She once again fingered the chain at her neck. "Daddy finally drank himself into the oblivion I'd placed him in my mind years ago."

She sighed and suddenly looked old and battle-weary. Alex couldn't imagine what it was like to blame yourself for the deaths of your parents, even if you were as unfond of them as Mercy had always been. They had raised her to be the opposite of what she was, but by the sheer strength of her character and the power of her kindness she remained unprejudiced and engaging. Although, she was smart enough to hide that golden heart from the world. Blatantly good people don't do well in society today.

"So, how's your mom handling being a grandmother?" Mercy asked without warning.

Alex jumped. "Oh," she stammered. "She loves it. That kid's going to be so spoiled we won't know what to do with him."

Mercy beamed. "Cool Aunt Alex."

"I hope so," Alex said, a nervous flicker in the back of her eye.

"Don't worry about it," said Mercy. "How often to you get to see... uh..."

"Him."

"Him?" Her eyes dimmed slightly for a moment, then blazed brighter than ever. "A precious little boy to be raised right. Anyway, how often do you see him?"

"About three times a week."

"Wonderful," she said, sounding like a Jew to the core. "That's the perfect number. Enough for him to know you but not enough to ever have to get mean."

"Mean Aunt Alex sounds a little more likely to me."

Mercy waved away the idea with a long, graceful hand. "Don't be silly. I'll bet the kid's eyes light up when he sees you."

Alex grew quiet and when she spoke again her tone was wistful. "You should've seen my brother-in-law when he first held that kid."

"Is he a good father, so far?"

"Yeah. He's a good guy."

Mercy laughed. "Ah, come on now. You know there's no such thing."

"I _knew_, but things change, Merc."

"Not that much." She stared menacingly down at her empty plate. "Not after you've seen what I've seen." She looked back up. "Men are idiots, Al, and nothing you say will ever change my mind."

Alex cocked an eyebrow and playfully threw a crouton. "Stubborn old blonde."

Reluctantly, Mercy let her angle slide by and returned the gesture. "Crazy old midget."

"I'm not that short!" Eames exclaimed. "Why does everyone think that? Just because I'm not a freak of nature doesn't mean I'm small."

"Freak of nature?" Mercy countered, eyes twinkling. "Honey, I'm only five-seven and I could pound you into the concrete."

"You wish."

"Yeah, sure, what are you going to do?" Mercy began to bob her head like a chicken... or gangster, depending on which side of New York you were standing in.

"I'll get Goren to come in here and throw you out a window."

Mercy laughed loudly, head back, shoulders shaking, passersby scowling. "Sounds like you've heard that threat before."

Alex sniffed. "I could take him."

"Uh-huh." Mercy let her lips curl upward. "And I'm the Tooth Fairy."

"He's not that big." Alex refused to meet Mercy's eyes for a moment. "He's only six-foot three and a half in his socks. He told me so."

"So he's six-foot four and a half in his shoes." Mercy chuckled. "Nah, you'd have to fight dirty. Real dirty. I mean, like, kick him in the testicles and run away dirty."

Alex snorted and changed the subject. She wasn't in the mood to think about Goren's testicles.

They continued their chat without hesitation until Mercy's watch beeped. Shocked, they realized they'd been away for almost an hour and a half. They quickly got to their feet, paid the check, and parted at the door after a few short words.

"We should do this again," said Alex, slinging her bag over her arm. "I'm free tomorrow."

"Me too. Will you remember to invite Detective Goren with you?" Mercy asked.

"I'll ask him tomorrow."

Mercy paused. "I'm willing to keep an open mind. Any friend of yours is a friend of mine."

"All right, I'll see if he's in the mood for humans in the morning." The two women got into their separate cars, their minds quickly elsewhere. _Sure_, thought Eames. _A friend of yours_. She grinned, liking the thought of Goren with a ray of sunshine on his arm.


	2. Conversations

Goren was a little anxious in the restaurant before Mercy arrived. Alex got a call to let her know she was going to be late. One of her dogs chased a squirrel over the fence and got tangled in the neighbor's deer wire around the vegetable garden.

"She said she should be here in a few minutes," Alex said, flagging down a waitress.

"Is she a dog person?" asked Goren, politely accepting a refill in his coffee cup.

"Animal person," corrected Alex. "The human race gets on her nerves, but she's got her soft spots."

Goren nodded. "What exactly is it about people that annoys her?"

Alex thought a moment. "She doesn't suffer fools. She's a genius, and she's impatient with people who aren't. Without someone to understand what she's talking about, she gets frustrated."

He nodded again. "Lack of mental stimulation."

Alex grinned. "Yeah, you know what that feels like." He shrugged as she continued. "Anyway, pay attention to what she says. She's got a helluva vocabulary and a tendency to be... poetic." She took a sip of her coffee and set it back down. "She is from Georgia, after all."

Goren's curiosity was peaked but at that moment Mercy appeared. "Sorry about that," she said, taking Alex's hand. "It's nothing serious. He should be fine."

She reached for her chair but in a flash Goren had it out for her. Beginning to feel like a princess, she took the seat and smiled when he sat down next to her at the little round table.

"What kind of dog is he?" Goren asked, undoing the button on his jacket.

She ran her eyes over the menu. "This was Stanly, my little beagle. Tiny and Boomer just kind of sat there, looking at him like he was nuts."

Alex's eyes grew huge. "Jesus, you still have Boomer?"

Mercy grinned. "Yep."

"What's a Boomer?" asked Goren, feeling left out.

"The Australian term for kangaroo, and the name of my Basset hound." Goren grinned. You just can't beat a lazy old Basset hound.

"How old is he now?" asked Alex.

Mercy strained her memory. "I guess about fifteen."

Goren whistled low. "Doesn't he have arthritis or hip displacia or anything pertaining to a Basset that age?"

"He should," Mercy acknowledged. "But he's just as happy as he can be."

"Hm," said Alex, looking at her pointedly. "I wonder why that is."

Mercy spread her arms out wide. "He knows he's loved."

Alex allowed herself a glance in Goren's direction. Damn he looked good today. "I don't think I've met Tiny, but knowing you that name means..."

"She's a Saint Bernard," said Mercy, smiling.

"How many—uh—creatures do you have?" asked Goren.

Mercy paused. "Three dogs, two cats, two love birds, a goldfish, and I've got a horse at Sunrise Stables."

Alex shook her head, not at all surprised. "Where did you get all those?" asked Goren, fascinated.

"The shelter. Actually, I bought Anna, my horse, from the police after she was shot." She grinned. "They wanted to put her down. Thought she was hopeless. They'd never met me before." She sipped her water and changed the subject. "What did I miss?"

"Before you called we were discussing the Montgomery murder," answered Alex.

Goren sighed and started rearranging the sugar packets, lining them up perfectly vertical, Splenda with Splenda, Sweet-N-Lo with Sweet-N-Lo, Equate with Equate.

"Talking shop on your lunch break," Mercy asked, watching the long fingers deftly line up the sugar. "That's not healthy. Hasn't anybody seen any good movies lately?"

They sat in silence for a long moment, finally Mercy sighed. "I took my niece to see Shrek 2 back in July. That's the last I've been."

"Congratulations," said Alex. "Three years more recent than my last." She frowned suddenly, her wheels turning. "Wait a minute, how old is your niece now?"

"Lily? She'll be eleven on November twenty-second."

"That's right," said Alex. "I remember her being born on your birthday."

Goren cocked his head, making the silent mental note. "How many have you got?" he asked. "Nieces and nephews, I mean."

Mercy shrugged. "I really don't know. I have six younger brothers. Four of them I don't know where they are. One lives back home in Atlanta. The other is up here." She grinned. "Been married twice. I like his new wife. She doesn't take any of his crap."

Alex grinned. "Who is that? Ronnie?"

"Yeah," said Mercy, returning the grin. "You remember."

"You bet I do," she mumbled. "Most arrogant SOB to ever..." she caught herself, looking at Goren. "Well, second most."

"Hey!" he whined playfully.

"Would you please stop picking on him?" Mercy looked at his hands to find he was still playing with the sugar, although their food had come. Without thinking, she placed her hands on top of his and looked kindly into his sleepy brown eyes. He let her pry his fingers away and felt cold when she let go. "So, Detective Goren, tell me about yourself."

He flexed his hand. Tingly.

"Well, what do you want to know?"

She chewed through a bite of salmon and considered. "Well, if it's ok for me to ask, what's your family like?"

Alex tensed as he lowered his eyes, but Mercy couldn't think of anything to say in apology. "It's small," he answered. "I'm an only child, my dad left when I was a kid, and my mother is—isn't well."

Mercy sensed something in his answer the majority of other people would easily overlook. She shook her head. "I don't know what to say." She watched him for a long moment, monitoring his movements for an idea. "I apologize for bringing it up and offer my condolences on your lost childhood. I know the feeling."

She fought hard to keep the resentment out of her voice.

He looked back to her face, the sunlight playing on her bright eyes. The smile in them was gone as her mind traveled to unpleasant times. Her alabaster skin was pulled tight with a fury of emotions.

"God, you're beautiful," he breathed. The volume of the dining room seemed to drop a decibel or two.

Alex gawked at him. He told her she was beautiful all the time, but never in that tone. She then gawked at Mercy turning a brilliant shade of red.

"Goren!" Alex exclaimed. He only grinned that suave Goren grin.

"Detective," Mercy grinned, leaning in as her drawl eased across the table. "That is quite unnecessary."

Goren waved his hand dismissively. "Please, call me Robert."

Alex inhaled sharply. Mercy only grinned. "I will do no such thing, _Bobby_."

He cocked his head at her, not quite sure what to do with this character. She straightened up. "Maybe we should stick to talking shop after all. Where did Carver go for vacation, do you know?"

"Bahamas," said Eames, enviously.

Mercy cocked an eyebrow at her own internal dialogue. "Two weeks in the Bermuda Triangle with a jealous wife. This could end nicely for us."

"Mercy!" scolded Alex.

She held up her hands. "Never mind, never mind. What was it you said you were working on?"

"The Montgomery murder," Alex reminded her. Bobby reached for the sugar packets again but Mercy sent him a look. He changed his mind.

"Suspect yet?" Mercy asked, raising her glass to her lips.

"Richie D'Abruzzi," Alex answered.

Mercy snorted. "Good luck. I remember that kid. I remember the D'Abruzzis, too."

Alex shook her head. "So much potential..."

Mercy grinned knowingly. "Just because he's cute doesn't mean he'll amount to something, Al."

"I know, but you can always hope." She paused, playing with her fork. "Is it bad that I think he's cute?"

Mercy waved away this idea. "Don't' worry. When it comes to Italians, count on anyone whose last name starts with D-apostrophe to be hot." Goren shifted uncomfortably. "But anyway," continued Mercy quickly, "we should take a moment to congratulate the Red Sox on their glorious victory this year."

"What?" exclaimed Goren, taken aback. Not by her randomness, no. Never. By her idea. "That was a pity victory to let them break the Curse. You can't tell me Damon didn't have it too easy out there."

"Easy or no," said Mercy with a grin, "the Curse _is_ broken, and the Yankees are in trouble."

Mercy knows a baseball man when she sees one. The three bonded over sports, politics, cars, books, songs, artists, what have you. Once again Mercy's watch beeped. Once again their lunch was cut short, twenty minutes late. And of course plans were made for the m to meet up the very next day.

"I hope tomorrow's as pretty as it is today," said Goren, feeling the warm light on his face. "This sun puts everybody in such a good mood."

Mercy smiled. "But Detective, if sunshine made you happy, you could never dance in the rain."


End file.
